A Warden's Tale
by Isolationistmagi
Summary: A take on Thedas during the Exalted Age from the persepctive of a Grey Warden.


**Prices**

"_Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day- we shall join you."_

The elven mage steps back and hangs her head low, either out of respect for the recruits or out of the fear she feels she cannot hide is impossible to determine. The taller of the recruits, another elf by the name of Alos, eyes the plain silver chalice nervously as the warden commander briefly ponders which of the two recruits to call first. His face bears a stoicism and lack of emotion that only the hammerblows of being surrounded by constant death and tragedy could beat into a face. His own eyes fly to the Chalice, and the silver glint of the cup in his eye gives every reason for one to believe it is staring back at him. There is no sense delaying his decision furhter however.

_Alos step forward. _The elven fighter steps forward and gingerly takes the cup in hands that one would never suspect strong enough to endure a fighter's life. That was the surprise about elves though, the commander had found. They were slight of build, but much stronger than they looked. And there was strength in this man, a fire that had never stopped burning from the moment the commander had first laid eyes on him. He had fought all his life in the Starkhaven alienage for survival, and the two had met by the sheerest of chances during the final battle of the last blight. Not only had the elf saved his life when he was ambushed by an Ogre, but he had shown a drive to fight the darkspawn that was rare indeed. When the elf asked to join after the battle, the commander's first reaction had been to ask why. The elf had simply glared at him and replied. "I did not dedicate ten years of my life to protecting my family only to see them undone by soulless insects." The elf had drive, and his skills with a blade would make him a fine warden.

But it was not to be.

The elf would die, the commander knew it the moment he swallowed the poisonous contents of the chalice. He breathed deeply and paid especial attention to the chalice as he replaced it, mostly so he wouldn't have to endure the pain of seeing the elf's tortured face as the taint sponged the life out of it and faded his pale hue to a foul black. He only looked up when the tortured screams stopped, and even then he still heard a word echoing around his mind that the elf had not uttered in his wordless frenzy of pain. _Betrayal. _

But the Joining was not done, there was still another recruit to go through the final test. _Meela step forward. _The calm tone of his voice bore a practiced levelness that had been beaten into it much the same as the expression upon his face.

The dwarven woman stepped forward and took the chalice in one hand. Before looking him in the eye. _Even should I die here it won't make me sad. I have no where else to be nor a reason to be there. _She pulled a single deep draught from the chalice before replacing it upon the stone table. The Commander knew little of her, only that she was a warrior from the freshly fallen dwarven city of Kaddalak who had shown up at his camp one day carrying four hurlock heads in one hand and a longsword in the other, demanding to join the order. Her motives were self evident, as was her skill, so he had not refused her.

It didn't help, she met the same end as Alos, though the screaming was mercifully absent. Perhaps she had been in too much pain for a noisy death.

His eyes were dim as he looked at the elven mage with a sigh on his face. _Burn the bodies. _He said simply, knowing he couldn't show emotion for her sake. It didn't help.

_Just like that? _She spat as her head snapped to align her eyes to meet his. Hers though were blazing with fire. _They DIED and all you have to say is burn the bodies? _

The Commander gives her a sad look with a bitter smile. _That's all I can say Naela. _

The elf glares at him and he can feel the anger burning off of her. He has to commend her though, as she manages to bite it back down and remain calm in her response. _Sometimes I don't even think you care until they pass the joining. _

It's not the first time the Commander has heard this accusation, and he answers it the only way he knows how. _You don't understand. _

_Explain it to me then! _She snaps as she takes a quick step towards him.

The Commander walks over to the corpse of Alos and kneels down beside it. _You'll only understand when you've seen as many good men and women die as I have, but by then you won't want to understand anymore. _He takes the dead elf's hand in his and says a silent prayer for him before continuing. _I do care about my recruits, and that is exactly why I have to be so cold when they die. You can keep your eyes on what we must do, or you can live in despair. _

He sighs and Naela remains silent as he slumps the dead Alos over his shoulder. He motions for her to pick up the dwarf, but she isn't strong enough so she simply drags her along.

A few minutes later and with the sun a little lower in the sky the two are standing over the bodies of those who were Grey Wardens in all but blood as the mage's conjured fire swiftly turns their bodies to ash to drift where they will. The Commander doesn't look at her, and she doesn't look at him. Nothing is said, there is nothing to say.

Just two more deaths for the greater good.


End file.
